


Irish Coffee - Hold the Coffee

by olimakiella



Series: Tea Arc [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Coffee, Established Relationship, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Male Bonding, Misunderstandings, Relationship Advice, Ron being an awesome friend, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olimakiella/pseuds/olimakiella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron needs to withhold his need to speak up. Seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irish Coffee - Hold the Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enchanted_Jae](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Enchanted_Jae).



> Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. 
> 
> A/N: Originally written for enchanted_jae's monthly drabble prompt of: WINTER/HOLIDAY PLANTS: Ivy.

Ron took a seat in what was now becoming his 'spot' on Harry's couch. The whole room was messy. Nearly every flat surface was filled with takeaway cartons. The Chinese symbol from that new place in Diagon Alley flashed a dull red as the animate charm wore off. Ron sighed. He loved the food there. "So, what did he say then?" he asked, not even sure he wanted to know the answer. All he knew was that three hours after leaving Harry's home, Hermione had stormed into their bedroom at a god awful time of the morning to let him know that his best friend was in need and tearing apart his living room.  
  
Apparently she'd been up and in the kitchen, a habit she had acquired a few weeks ago, to get a snack for herself, when the fireplace in the kitchen (it was a much needed installment, which came with an option for inhabitant detection - a very cool feature that had the caller directed to the fireplace nearest an awake inhabitant) had flared up. Hermione had looked over to see who was calling. When nothing came through for a couple moments Hermione had almost severed the connection until a timid, ' _Hermione?_ ' had come through. She'd been able to talk to him for a while until he got angry and pulled away from the fire. Hermione couldn't see him, but she could definitely hear the sounds of crashing objects and swearing. She'd gone upstairs to get Ron immediately.  
  
Ron had entered into a one-sided war zone. Nothing was in its rightful place, he was surprised Harry's fish had survived.  
  
It had taken a while to calm Harry down. Ron had assumed the mood signified the worst. Malfoy had said no. But when he finally tried to ask, Harry wouldn't answer. There wasn't even a twitch, just a small frown. Three days later, Harry had begun to respond to them in one and two word sentences. Ron was taking a chance bringing this up again.  
  
"He said... nothing."  
  
Three words, that was better. Ron frowned though.  _Nothing?_  He tried to imagine how it went. Harry would have most likely beaten around the bush trying to bring up the subject. So, perhaps when he did ask, Malfoy didn't have any idea what he was talking about.  _Hmm..._  He eyed his friend carefully.  _Judging from that facial expression, that's a no._  Harry looked angry, like he didn't understand what was going on and it pissed him off. That meant he'd asked outright and not gotten an answer. "So not an  _actual_  no?" he tried.  
  
Harry turned and stared at him for so long, Ron felt uncomfortable. After a while, Harry shook his head. He changed the channel and settled down to  _Being Human_  in peace. He was glad. Draco didn't like the show and he was tired of trying to defend it.  
  
At the sight of the gore on the screen and the lack of complaint that ‘Mitchell’ still hadn’t returned, Ron rolled his eyes. “So you’re coping, I see?”  
  
Harry shifted in his seat. "I am. I’m going to sit here forever and just watch TV." Harry stared straight at the television and refused to budge. He suddenly glanced up at the clock. "Until I have to go to the hospital." He hugged his cushion tighter.  
  
Harry had surprised the lot of them, going into healthcare. The lot of them, of course, except Hermione, whom Harry told  _everything_  to, as if Ron didn't exist and couldn't give career advice. He mentally rolled his eyes. They'd all had that argument before. Harry somehow believed Ron would go off the deep end with whatever he came up with, like suddenly not wanting to be an Auror, or being gay, or shagging Malfoy, or wanting the prat to move in. Well, he may have over-reacted a little, but he got over it. Kind of.  
  
Ron smiled, letting it go and mimicked Harry's stance. He stared straight ahead and picked up a cushion to hug. "So this is your plan then? Curl up and die?"  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"Okay..." he said in a conciliatory tone. He settled down to watch the show in silence.   
  
Ron held in the smile just barely when he noticed Harry sneaking looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Say it."  
  
Surprised he'd actually come out with it already, Ron turned to him. "Eh?"  
  
Harry looked very put upon and rolled his eyes heavenward as he sighed heavily. "Say what you came here to say."  
  
Ron still looked bemused. He’d come over to offer some comfort... oh. "Sorry mate. Can’t do that." Harry turned to him, his hands resting on his cushion with the remote still clutched in them. "From my vantage point, your soul’s on the pavement like white on rice. If I remember the pact correctly, the words are still out of bounds."  
  
Harry looked like he didn’t know whether to punch him or hug him. He still insisted he was fine, but Ron had been his friend more than ten years now. He knew bullshit when he heard it.   
  
"I know what I  _am_  gonna do, though."  
  
"What’s that?" Harry said distracted, his attention now focused once more on the TV.  
  
"I’m gonna kick his arse ten ways to Sunday next time I see him," he replied in much the same tone.  
  
Another sigh. "Ron-"  
  
"No." Ron turned his head to Harry. "My pact was with  _you_. I think you’ll find I said nothing about him." He refocused on the TV still addressing him. "I'll bring Seamus in on the action. He’s been after you for years, he’ll welcome the chance." He tuned back into the show.  
  
After a beat, "You what?" he heard.  
  
Ron turned to him. "Hmm. Pretend I didn’t say that." He got up, ignoring Harry's wide eyed expression. He closed Harry's mouth for him. "First step, I’m gonna eat and drink out  _everything_  you kept in stock just in case he ' _came over_ '" he said with air quotes. "You are not to look at or experience  _anything_  that reminds you of him. Do you hear me? The faster you get over him. The faster I get to fulfill my half of the bargain."  
  
Despite himself. Harry smiled.

  


"Oh, fuck me." Draco dropped his spoon in his saucer and looked away, hoping that when he turned back, the ginger-haired menace would be gone. No such luck.  
  
"In your dreams blondie."  
  
"Nightmares more like," he muttered to himself. "What the hell do you want?" he added waspishly, wondering why the idiot didn't move on.  
  
Ron narrowed his eyes at him and sat down at the table. "I thought you were smart. There is no reason on earth I would ever sit down willingly next to you unless it had something to do with Harry. Even a bastard like you can figure that out."  
  
Draco closed his eyes and looked away. "So what is it?" he said glancing back. "Stay away from him?" he began. "You’ll break my arms if I come near him again?" He leaned forward over the table, his eyes bright. "Well, sorry to break it to you, but I have a feeling he’d do it for you." He severed their gaze after a long look and turned back to his coffee. He picked up a small bottle of Irish whiskey and poured some into his cup of black java.  
  
Ron cocked his head to the side. "This is a cafe, where’d you get liquor from?"  
  
Draco spared him a glance from under his lashes as he stirred it in with a spoon. "It started out as Irish coffee. I've been adding my own Irish for the better part of an hour now."  
  
The spoon was still spinning slowly around the cup. Draco's fingers were white where they gripped it. Ron took in all of the man. He didn't like him, he still stood by that, but there must be something there that had Harry going so mental at home for him. "Not that I care, but why did you turn him down?"  
  
Draco laughed emptily. He took a sip from his coffee and Ron decided to ignore the fact that the cup rattled a little when Draco rested it back in the saucer. He rested his elbow on the table and ran the hand down his face. He finally rested his head on the heel. His shoulders gave a half shrug. "That’s the thing. I haven’t even turned him down."  
  
Ron's brow furrowed. "From what I hear, you said absolutely nothing and left, which, in Harry’s terms, is  _worse_  than a no. It implies no feelings at all."  
  
Draco raised his head indignantly and glared. "It  _implies_  being blindsided and not having an answer on the spot, nor the capabilities of forming a ‘can I think about it?’" He let out a breath. "I wish I can take it back." He paused and looked away. "But I can’t."  
  
"Again, not that-"  
  
"Yeah you don’t care, but I do!" Draco's eyes were bright again. "Do you know how he asked me? He asked me after an  _orgasm_." Immediately Ron regretted sitting down there. "My mind wasn’t even  _working_  and by the time I realised I should answer, I didn’t know what to answer because..." He looked at a loss for words, shook his head and then looked down to his coffee. "Because all I could think of was leaving my home."  
  
Ron didn't know what it felt like. Since he'd made up his mind to marry Hermione, he'd wanted out of his childhood home. Draco had probably been raised with the idea that his bride would move in. The manor was ancestral after all. “Ever think he could move in with you?" That would never happen though, Harry had far too many bad memories of that place, and it looked like Draco knew it. "Or you could perhaps keep your own home and still live with him. It’s ancestral. I may not know much about this, but I know a pureblood’s family history is important."  
  
Draco stared at him like his mind was blank and then it screwed up into disbelief and anger. He dropped his head on the table this time and Ron had to sit back and look around to make sure no one was seeing them, or Malfoy’s antics. "You see!" He raised his head and his face had a pink tint to it to show his embarrassment.  
  
 _He didn’t think of that then,_  Ron thought to himself.   
  
"This is the reason why I told him in the beginning that I didn’t want anything serious! Fuck!"  
  
Ron was surprised. He hadn't been given the details of the two getting together. Probably for good reason if this was it. "You told him that?"  
  
Draco let out a helpless laugh. "Yeah, but idiot I am, I fall in love with him anyway." He dropped his head in his hands and let out a groan. Ron began to feel a little uncomfortable. "He just blurted it out and when I didn’t say anything, he says he loves me, don’t I love him?" He then gestured to Ron with his hands. Ron suddenly realised Draco was using Harry's gesture for 'how crazy is he?' with his two hands splayed open, his fingers curved a little and this manic look in his eyes.   
  
Harry had developed a tendency since childhood to let his hands do the talking for him. Certain expressions Ron had picked up over the years like,  _How crazy is that?_  and  _Did you see that?_  and  _What the hell is she wearing?_  His favourite and most helpful to date for Ron was:  _No, don't answer her, it's a trap._  Hermione had picked up the habit too, after spending so much time with him. Honestly, if Harry wasn't gay... Ron had once caught them having a silent conversation. It was maddening, but he was slowly keeping up.   
  
 _Does Malfoy know he's doing that?_ Ron wondered if he did it too. Huh.  
  
"I mean, I do, but the words got stuck and now he thinks I'm still in the same place I was when we started." His eyes became sad then. Ron was amazed at the amount of emotion he could see plain as day. He was also amazed at how much the blond was talking. To  _him_. Ron wondered just how much ‘Irish-hold-the-coffee' Malfoy’d had. “But who can be, when they’re in a relationship with him? It’s bloody impossible."  
  
Knowing Harry, that really wasn’t too far from the truth.  
  
So, Harry loved him. He’d assumed that when Harry had mentioned the term 'soul' a couple of weeks ago. Seems Malfoy was on the same level.  _White on rice_. And now, knowing what he did, with Malfoy gesturing madly across from him, he couldn’t let it be. How the hell did he get himself into this?  _Fuck_. “What are you going to do about it?”  
  
Draco gave that empty laugh again, like there was absolutely nothing funny about the situation but his nerves had him at a loss of what to do. He took a hefty sip of his Irish Coffee - hold the coffee and hugged his cup tighter to him.  
  
Ron cocked an eyebrow, feeling a wave of déjà vu. “So this is your plan, drink yourself to death?”  
  
Draco cocked his head to the side and snorted. “Obviously.”  
  
Ron shook his head in reply. “Okay...” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “And this is phase - what - in your plan to get Harry back from Seamus?”  
  
People tended to love Harry very much once they got to know him. His love of affection, yet dislike of attention endeared people to him. Thing is, once people  _got_  his attention, they hated for it to go anywhere else. Ron had thought he was the only one to feel this way, until Hermione had enlightened him with her display of ‘ownership’ one day when they’d gone to visit Harry at work. The nurses never looked at Harry the same again.  
  
Thing was, Harry evoked a possessive nature in the people who loved him that was hard to ignore. Ron only imagined it was ten times worse when one was  _in love_  with the endearing bastard.  
  
As predicted, serious grey eyes focused on him. The stare was almost unnerving. “ _What_  did you say?”  
  
Ron smiled. To himself of course. He wasn’t suicidal. 


End file.
